I didn't get a second of sleep that night. I sat hunched and hollow in the living room, staring down the bottle of bourbon in front of me, my fingers aching from gripping the glass like it was the only thing keeping me upright. My eyes burned a hole in the door—I was fierce, frantic, desperate not to miss even the faintest sound of her return. I waited, lungs straining, hunger for her overwhelming every thought.
When the sun finally cracked through the trees, hope was all I had left—a frail spark that maybe after the obliterating night, she’d be back, we could talk. But dread dug its claws into me. I deserved every ounce of her silence. She owed me nothing, not a word, not a glance. But my wolf screamed inside; both of us were howling with loss.
My wolf had been howling for his mate, rag
